Oh the anticipation! The delicious deception.
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last bottle
I built my son with my body
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first halloween
So ready for live theater.
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teeth brushing
Finally it happened.
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powerful, primal stuff
L is six months old, yay! But this post is about my boobs.
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six albums
The music that once upon defined me.
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Flipped
Their kids sold the house ’cause take the money and run. The flippers painted it black.
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Better Angels
As a Travis County precinct chair with hundreds of door-hangers, Arthur has knocked on hundreds of doors.
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accoladen
We are more than our building.
We are More Than Books. -
dour thoughts
There are things I will never recover. There are things I shouldn’t keep.
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Tropical Sturm und Drang
I love storms, the rain, the rush, but already this is ridiculous and a little scary.
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Caddo Lake
We came for the moss, herons and egrets.
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National Character Assassination
I don’t need to go through everything. I write this for me, not you, and plenty has been said already.
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The Mockingbird
We adopted Lafitte in January. Those PAWS! That tail. She’s a sweet girl and total monster, escape-artist, stealing food off the counter. We named her after a pirate, so it’s our own damn fault.
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Bot Party meets SX
SXSW 2016. I didn’t have a real badge this year and that was just fine. My FOMO has a incontrovertible bullshit detector of negative putting up with it, besides. I had robots to mind.
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Merge
Three months on, and I still don’t have the words. But I do have the pictures, the whole day off, fingerless gloves and a sleepy dog wedging her head in the base of the roller chair.
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Weltschmerz Doorbuster
I remember you. I took you in when you didn’t want me to. Shelter from the riders on the storm.
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Bye, Cleo
We love you and we’ll miss you so much.
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Good Night, Sweet Boy
I consider the calculus, how many steps to the stage, the likelihood of distraction with all the crowd smells and ground noms, what if someone careens into the aisle right on top of him?
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New Orleans!
My last and only time in the Crescent City, I was 20, a roadtrip pilgrimage to goth Mecca with Anna and Bennett to poke through cemeteries, corset shops and dance floors, adamant we had no interest in stalking Anne Rice.
Narratives
Longer posts of creative nonfiction.
